X-Wing: Rogues' Gallery
by Agamar Rules The Galaxy
Summary: 45 years after the battle of Yavin, a new generation of Rogue Squadron takes to the stars to join the hunt for Natasi Daala. Occurs in the classic (Legends) Expanded Universe.
1. Author's Note and Dramatis Personae

**Author's Note:**

I neither own nor claim to own any piece of the Star Wars franchise. The following work is a non-profit fan-based story with the intent of paying tribute to the late, great Aaron Allston and the classic (Legends) Expanded Universe. Any and all non-original characters, locations, and technology to follow belong to Disney, George Lucas, and the authors who created them.

**Dramatis Personae**

**Rogue Squadron**

Rogue Leader: Syal Antilles, Human female from Corellia

Rogue Two: Leda Maros, Mirialan female from Mirial

Rogue Three: Jon Windspeaker, Human male from Tatooine

Rogue Four: Kaz Beiner, Human male from Sluis Van

Rogue Five: Jost Vigil, Human male from Corellia

Rogue Six: IG-90, assassin droid from Holowan Laboratories

Rogue Seven: Nodra, Duros male from Duro

Rogue Eight: Rosharra, Wookiee female from Kashyyyk

Rogue Nine: Retta'res'hnuruodo, Chiss male from Csilla

Rogue Ten: Bulsara, Human male from [REDACTED]

Rogue Eleven: Tur'in'akar, Twi'lek male from Ryloth

Rogue Twelve: Sil Sund, Sullustan male from Sullust

**Wraith Squadron**

Voort 'Piggy' Sa'Binring, Gamorrean male from Gamorr

Myri Antilles, Human female from Corellia

**Crew of the _Tiger Claw_**

General Wedge Antilles, Human male from Corellia

Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker, Human male from Tatooine

Jedi Knight Ben Skywalker, Human male from Coruscant

Captain Tomar, Mon Calamari male from Dac

Commander Sara Konnair, Human female from Coruscant

**Maw Irregular Fleet**

Admiral Natasi Daala, Human female from Irmenu

**The Dread Masters**

Lord Calphayus, Human male

Lord Kharak, Human male

Lord Altis, Human male


	2. 1: FNG

1

FNG

Explosions were the last thing Jost Vigil expected to see in a hangar bay.

'Dammit,' he muttered. There was no time for a proper flight check. Fuel, shields, and weapons all looked functional. That was all that mattered right now. He shut the cockpit and ignited his X-wing's engines. 'One to Red Flight,' he said into the comm, 'Forget standard deployment procedure and deploy the second you're ready. Launching now.'

He kicked the repulsorlifts into gear and entered the fray. His sensor board was a mess of red dots and missile icons. No friendly signatures—they were either dead or long gone from the furball. Red Flight's home base, the Mon Calamari cruiser, _Avenger_, burned in the cold white light of this desolate, backwater system. Its sleek, organic curves were marred by laser burns, missile impacts, and melted armor plate. Only a few of its point defense lasers remained operational. This was bad. Very, very bad. He turned his fighter in a tight arc that took him up and starboard, toward the thickest cluster of enemy TIEs. Vigil's astromech beeped in alarm.

'I know, I know,' he said, 'but we need to take some of the heat off the cruiser. Tag the TIE bombers as priority targets and everything else as secondary.'

His astromech chirped a reply.

'What do you mean, "unknown TIE variants"? Pull them up on the display.'

The droid complied and brought up images of the ugliest fighter he'd ever seen. One solar wing sat in between two ball pods, one of which was the cockpit. The other looked like a turbolaser. A _turbolaser_.

'What will Imperial science think of next? Tag those as priorities as well.'

Pumping discretionary power into shields and engines, he sped towards the nearest cluster of priority targets. Almost immediately, a flight of TIE interceptors—squints in Alliance piloting parlance—broke off from their attack runs to engage him. Vigil toggled to lasers and centered his targeting bracket on the lead TIE. As the distance counter ticked down, his crosshairs glowed green. A laser lock. He pulled the trigger, the squints following suit an instant later. And then the head-to-head was over as quickly as it began, the X-wing and interceptors passing one another.

KILL CONFIRMED, bleeped his droid. Good, Vigil thought. His remaining shield capacity didn't look too shabby either.

The interceptors would no doubt turn to tail him now, but he had no time to engage them. He switched to torpedoes and aimed at two of the enemy TIE bombers. He had a double lock tone. He fired, changed targets, then fired again. With less than five kilometers between him and the bombers, dodging his torpedoes would be next to impossible. Soon enough, four more kill messages appeared on his display. The interceptors, on the other hand, were still quite alive, and had closed the distance. Vigil pulled hard on the stick, his flight harness digging into his chest as his starfighter made a tight koiogran turn. Even through the X-wing's inertial compensators, he could feel the stresses of the turn. Bracketing another TIE, Vigil toggled to lasers again and fired a quad-linked blast. He missed, despite the lock, the TIE sideslipping at the last moment to dodge the attack. Vigil flicked the target selector switch, moving on to the other TIE. It made no sense to focus entirely on one target. That just made you vulnerable, and quite possibly dead. This second TIE was just as agile as its cousin, flitting in and out of Vigil's brackets too quickly for him to get a good shot. Vigil gave up on a direct kill. Instead, he pursued the target further down toward the _Avenger's_ surface. He aimed above the interceptor and fired. Reflexively, the pilot dodged down. Unfortunately for him, 'down' in this case was toward the cruiser's hull. The squint crashed into the _Avenger_ with a healthy explosion. As Vigil climbed again, a trio X-wings passed him, vaping the other two interceptors.

'One here, is that you, Red Flight?'

'Kept you waiting, huh?' quipped Red Three. Vigil recognized the voice and accent as those of Nodra, a Duros classmate from his academy days.

'Statement,' droned Red Two, 'We were busy with a few TIEs of our own.' Two was a droid by the name of IG-90. Vigil still hadn't gotten to know it all that well.

'So you were all TIE'd up?'

'One, Four,' growled a fourth voice in Shyriwook, 'Is this really the time for puns?' That was Rosharra, obviously a Wookiee.

Vigil ignored Four's comment and uploaded his targeting data to the other Reds. 'Form up by wing pairs, Red Flight. Focus on the bombers and the turbolasers, and save at least two torpedoes in case something else joins the party.'

Red Flight fought as one, destroying the TIEs swarming the _Avenger_. They quickly learned to stay well out of the turbolaser TIEs' sights after a grazing shot completely dropped Nodra's shields. Vigil could barely remember the ensuing furball as anything but a haze of laser fire and explosions. Thankfully, a few point defense turrets had survived the initial assault to back Red Flight up. By the time the space around the cruiser was clear, all four of them had made ace several times over.

Vigil opened a comm channel to the ship's bridge. '_Avenger_, this is Red One, what's your status?'

The comm buzzed with static for a moment before someone spoke up, coughing all the while. The bridge was probably on fire or filled with smoke. 'Red One, _Avenger_. Omega signal. I say again, omega signal. Give us a few minutes to repair our hyperdrive.'

'Statement: We do not have a few minutes, _Avenger_. My sensors pick up enemy reinforcements entering the system. I pick up four silhouettes that match those of TIE/D defenders.'

'Please, Red One, just hold off those TIEs a little longer.'

Rosharra responded with a colorful curse in her native tongue. 'Wonderful. And we're the only ones left to protect this tub.'

'Cut the chatter,' Vigil said. 'We only need to hold the defenders off long enough for the cruiser to escape. After that, we jump out.'

'How do we do that while those Defenders are on our asses?'

'Once _Avenger_ jumps, you three bug out. I'll hold the TIEs off myself.'

Red Two spoke up. 'Protestation: That is suicide, Red One.' Was that concern in IG-90's voice?

'It's the option we seem to have, Two. Do you have anything up your sleeves?'

'Statement: One wrist-mounted vamblade and one wrist-mounted flamethrower. Neither is sufficient for prosecuting the swift annihilation of TIE-piloting meatbags.'

'Frankly, Two,' Rosharra said. 'I'm not hearing the aggression I'd like.'

'Statement: Assassination protocols active. Prepare yourselves, meatbags.'

'Much better.'

Forming up on Vigil, Red Flight flew towards the four incoming TIE defenders. This looked like yet another head-to-head in the making. Vigil tensed. His shields still had not fully recovered from the last furball. He armed his last two torpedoes. As the two flights of fighters reached maximum weapons range, they loosed simultaneous torpedo volleys.

MISSILE LOCK! Vigil's astromech screamed. KEY TO TARGET?

Reflexively, he'd already flicked the target selector switch and locked onto the incoming proton torpedo. Most pilots would try to dodge, but if this gamble worked, he could blow the enemy torpedo out of space and target the defender with a flick of the stick. He set his lasers to maximum cycle and fired a hail of bolts at the torpedo's general direction. One second of fire yielded no results. Two seconds. Three. The torpedo detonated less than fifty meters from his cockpit, blocking his view of the defender. Targeting by instruments alone, he guessed where the TIE would move and fired a quad-linked blast through the fireball. He pulled up and inverted his fighter as he passed the explosion. The defender, its shields sparking and fizzling, zipped past underneath. He was so close to the TIE's ball cockpit that he could see the lights of its instrument panel as their paths crossed.

TIE defenders were faster, more agile, and more heavily armed than the X-wing. Red Flight was almost completely outmatched and outgunned. The only advantages the X-wing in this situation had were its slightly tighter turning radius and the aid of an astromech droid. Vigil pulled into another tight koiogran turn, this time eliciting a slight groan of stress from his X-wing's frame.

'Come on, baby,' he muttered, 'hold together.'

Done with the head-to-head, Red Flight and the TIEs turned and began their deadly dance. Vigil dove and followed the shieldless defender. If he could finish it off quickly, he could tip the scales even closer to victory, not that the pilot made it any easier for him. Red One forced himself into a state of calm. Block out the distractions, he told himself. The other Reds have the other TIEs distracted. You can chase this TIE for as long as you need. He ran the numbers down in his head. Will it dodge this way or that? He broke to port, so will he break to starboard next? No, they need to get at the cruiser. The only way to get a proper shot at the _Avenger_ was to take out Red Flight. That meant the defender would turn back on him.

Indeed it did, and now it made a beeline straight for him. The distance counter ticked down again. Laser lock.

Vigil fired. So did the defender.

His cockpit went opaque, awash with neon greens and blues as the TIE downed his shields with a blast from its ion and laser cannons. Dimly, he remembered seeing the cruiser's radar signature drop out of system—a successful hyperspace jump.

KILL CONFIRMED, his droid bleated. It pulled up a rear camera view of the defender and sure enough, it had become a rapidly expanding cloud of gas, metal, and shattered dreams. One down. Three left. He climbed to rejoin the rest of the furball.

'Red One to Flight, the cruiser's gone. Omega. I say again, omega signal. Go.'

His sensor board's squad icons flickered twice—the shorthand signal for an affirmative. Vigil needed a way to distract the enemy TIEs somehow. He turned his craft in a gentle arc around the furball's perimeter to get all three of them in his forward view.

'R2, can you slice the targeting systems? I need a missile lock on all three of those defenders.'

The droid trilled in protest.

'Yes, I know I'm out of ordnance. I just need to distract them so the others have a shot at disengaging.'

Vigil's only gripe with the T-65 X-wing was its inability to achieve a lock on more than two targets due to its two torpedo tubes. He dearly wished that Red Flight had been equipped with newer XJ models instead. At least those could lock onto three targets, thanks to the third torpedo launcher. The droid responded with a long, drooping tone, a sort of electronic sigh. The ruse worked. As the lock tone sounded, the three TIEs immediately broke off to evade their apparent pursuers. It only worked for a moment, but it was enough for Red Flight to form up and fly off, and for Vigil to distract them with a few inaccurate laser blasts. He sped past the TIEs, wiggling his wings to taunt them for good measure. The TIEs took the bait and almost immediately entered torpedo range. _Three_ torpedo lock alarms blared in his ear. This was going to be one short distraction. For the third time this mission, Vigil wrenched the stick in an effort to pull the tightest turn he could possibly manage. He didn't even finish the turn before the TIEs launched their torpedoes.

The stars went dark, as did Vigil's instrument panel. His simulator pod disengaged its locks and opened, the harsh light of the sim room blinding at first. Seconds later, his flight mates dragged him bodily from the pod and clapped him on the back.

'What's going on?' he asked, still jittery from the adrenaline high of combat. 'How'd the run go?'

'We made it out moments before the defenders vaped you,' Nodra said. His blue-skinned face split into a grin. 'A seventy-five percent success rate—'

'—is still pretty mediocre,' Vigil grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

'We were flying old T-65s against trips,' Rosharra said, using the Alliance pilot slang term for the TIE defender. Rosharra was a mountain of fur and muscle, quite possibly the largest member of the trainee class, as befitting of her species. She was a Wookiee—a small one compared to the rest of her species, but large enough to have a bit of trouble fitting into a cockpit. Having spent much of her life as a spacer, her Shyriwook accent was far less incomprehensible than those of her Kashyyyk-bound kin, at least to Vigil's untrained ears. 'It's a wonder we only lost one out of four.'

'Point, Rosh,' he said. 'I guess we won't really know how well we did until we hear from the boss.'

Ninety straightened suddenly, saluting as the sim room's door slid open with a hiss. The droid's body was slim and minimalistic, all dark gray and black with an elongated cylinder for a head. His three red optical units whirred and clicked idly as they refocused and adjusted to the lighting of the sim chamber. 'Exclamation: Officer on deck!'

The rest of Red Flight quickly followed suit, putting on expressions of calm neutrality.

'Commander Antilles,' Vigil said, clearing his throat. 'How did we do?'

Syal Antilles consulted the datapad in her hand, brushing an errant lock of blonde hair out of her face. She was young, about the same age her father was when he rebuilt Rogue Squadron forty years ago to hunt for Ysanne Isard. How fitting, then, that the mantle of Rogue Leader fell to her now. She wore a TIE pilot's uniform. No doubt, she had been in one of the trips flying against them during the sim.

'Not too bad, actually. Good kills right off the bat,' she said. 'Nice use of torpedoes from Vigil and two good kill-shots from IG-90. Your TIE kills were academic—no flaws I could see there. Red One, those were some good leadership skills. You'll make a commendable flight leader. Overall, I'd say you guys quite well.'

'Query: Well enough to make the cut?'

Antilles shrugged. 'We'll see about that, Flight Officer. For now, you four should get some downtime at the cantina. You've earned it. I'll release my final selections later today.'

* * *

Syal Antilles took a seat at the officers' mess alongside the other TIE pilots present during the training period. 'What do you think?' she asked them as she placed the datapad on the table.

The one seated closest to her sipped from a cup of caf. His deep blue skin and deep red eyes made his heritage immediately apparent, and his rank pins made him Syal's equal. He was Rogue Squadron's second-in-command by virtue of being Syal's junior. The Chiss known as Retta'res'hnuruodo paused to consider his words before speaking up.

'I'd say this crop has promise. Good scores and performance all around and there's a general sense of camaraderie. One of them even managed to shoot Major Klivian down—Lieutenant Vigil, I think his name was. Their lack of combat experience, however, makes me skeptical.'

Syal nodded grimly. 'You know the circumstances, Aresh. We were lucky enough to get the green light to reform the Rogues after the war. Asking for more veterans to transfer in is pushing our luck.'

'What about the pre-Centerpoint Rogues? They've got experience. We could have used them to form this generation's backbone.'

The third person seated at the table shook his head. His short brown hair and perpetually youthful features belied his advanced age. Major Wes Janson had been one of the first Rogues. Indeed, during the Battle of Hoth, Janson had been Wedge Antilles' rear gunner. He and Syal's father had been good friends ever since. Wes picked the datapad up and began to fiddle with it. 'It wouldn't have worked. Regardless of what you think of them, the political implications of keeping them around would have been a PR nightmare for the brass.'

'He's right,' replied the fourth, one Major Hobbie Klivian. Hobbie was another member of the old guard, having joined the Rebel Alliance alongside the late Biggs Darklighter. Unlike Wes, Hobbie had aged enough to prove it with care lines and graying hair. He also had a bit of a gut, though he hated to admit it. 'It's better, politically speaking, to start from a clean slate. And as we all know—'

'Politics beats practicality,' they chorused.

Aresh checked his watch. 'It's been a while. Think it's time to announce the graduating class?'

Syal stood and retrieved the datapad from Wes. 'Yeah. Let's go.'

Wes and Hobbie stood up, knowing smirks on their faces. What were they so smug about?

Wes yawned and stretched dramatically. 'As much as I love warlord hunts, I think I'll get back to training more rookies here.'

Hobbie rolled his eyes. 'And _I _have to make sure he doesn't scare the kids.'

The two veterans made for the door. Wes had just turned the corner when he poked his head back into the doorframe.

'Oh, and Syal, check the datapad. Left a present for you.'

She did. Wes' present was a doodle of a very angry Ewok in Alliance pilot gear. Below the Ewok were words which read: 'Yub yub, Commander.'

'Really, Uncle Wes?'

'Yub yub, Commander. And that's _Major_ Uncle Wes to you, missy.'

She glared at Hobbie. 'Uncle Hobbie, I thought you'd be able to get his emotional age up to maybe twelve or thirteen.'

Hobbie feigned deafness and hurried out, much to her chagrin. Wes followed suit, whistling loudly all the while. Syal turned to Aresh.

'Well, Aresh? Shall we ruin their break time?'

'Yub yub, Commander.'


	3. 2: Tiger Claw

2

Tiger Claw

Well, that was an awfully short break. Vigil's flight group took their seats in Borleias Base's briefing amphitheater along with six other pilots. No doubt about it, Vigil thought, we're the graduating class. Commander Antilles and her second-in-command, Aresh, waited for everyone to get settled before they began. They were quite a varied crowd. In the back sat a rather nervous Mirialan, quite visibly younger than almost everyone else in the room. Vigil recognized two of the other Human graduates as Jon Windspeaker and Kaz Beiner. One hailed from sunny Tatooine and had the tanned skin to prove it. Beiner, on the other hand, had the facial features characteristic of a Sluis Van native. Vigil also noticed a third human sitting apart from everyone else. The man's slicked back hair and thick mustache reminded him of a famous singer back on Corellia. The last to arrive were a Twi'lek and a Sullustan. Well, at least the media wouldn't complain about racial diversity.

'Hello, hello, ladies and gentlemen,' said Syal Antilles. 'Before we get started, give yourselves a pat on the back. You're all _proper_ Rogues now. I'm sure you all think this is a bit abrupt. Most of you probably didn't have enough time to trade backstories with one another, but we're on a bit of a tight schedule. In a few hours, we're set to board the _Tiger Claw_, a brand new MC100 fresh off the production line. We're going hunting, boys and girls, and our target is Natasi Daala.'

One of the Rogues, a Mirialan, raised her hand. 'Do we have our X-wings yet, Commander?'

Aresh nodded and pulled up a diagram of Rogue Squadron's favorite starfighter on the holo-projector. 'We do, Flight Officer Maros. As expected, we'll be flying XJ-7 models, factory standard. You'll have time to make personal adjustments once we're aboard the _Claw_. Don't get too comfy with the XJs, however. I expect you all to put in sim time for every single fighter the Galactic Alliance has on frontline duty. You never know when you might have to make do with something different.'

'Now,' said Antilles, 'on to flight assignments. I'll be in command of One Flight. Rogue Two will be Flight Officer Maros. Three and Four will be Windspeaker and Beiner.'

Maros seemed quite pleased with the assignment. She probably was unaware of the Rogue tradition of assigning the newest or weakest pilot to be Rogue Leader's wingman. Beiner and Windspeaker merely nodded. The two of them hadn't gotten acquainted just yet.

'Two Flight will be under Lieutenant Vigil's command,' Antilles continued. 'IG-90, you're Rogue Six, Vigil's wing. Nodra, you're Rogue Seven, and Rosharra, you're Eight. I'd hate to break up our training class' top performing flight team.'

Rosharra roared in approval. Vigil and Nodra shared a congratulatory fist bump.

'Three Flight is under Commander Aresh, Rogue Nine. Rogue Ten will be Lieutenant Bulsara. Eleven is Lieutenant Tur'in'akar, and Twelve will be Flight Officer Sund.'

Bulsara remained silent. Out of the applicants, he was the most mysterious. From what Syal observed, the man hadn't really gotten to know his fellow aspirants. He was a team player in the simulator runs, but outside of it, he had been a bit of a loner. Tur'in'akar, a muscular and broad-shouldered Twi'lek, had gotten along quite nicely with his diminutive Sullustan wingman, however. He and Sund would work well together.

'But before you get too cocky,' announced Syal, 'just let me remind you of something. You may be Rogues, and you may be among the best and brightest the Alliance has to offer, but we're Rogue Squadron for a reason. We'll get the toughest, most dangerous missions in the book and I can't guarantee that any of us will come out alive. Statistically, about fifty percent of Rogue Squadron's past members failed to survive their first five missions. If any of you wish to leave now, you are free to do so with a clean conscience. None of us will judge you for opting out.'

The room was silent for a moment. Syal's disclaimer had certainly put a damper on their festive moods. None, however, budged from their seats. She would have liked to say they all had expressions of grim determination. Some, like Maros and Beiner, looked nervous and skittish—understandable, since they were fresh from Academy. Many of the more experienced pilots like Vigil, Nodra, and Windspeaker were impatient, shifting and tapping their toes, ready to to fly and fight at a moment's notice. Syal hoped she wasn't in the first category. Landing the job of leading a new generation of Rogues was no mean feat, and keeping it would be even tougher. She had a legacy to live up to, a legacy full of larger-than-life heroes. Luke Skywalker. Garven Dreis. Biggs Darklighter. Her father. She hoped she was up to the task. She hoped they all were.

* * *

In the heavens above Borleias, a great fleet of warships waited. Nebulon-B frigates and Corellian corvettes, arranged in a wedge formation, made up the vanguard of the fleet. Behind them was a bevy of heavier cruisers, carriers, and destroyers backed up by squadrons of starfighters. Those ships, however, paled in comparison to their flagship, an MC100 Star Cruiser. Utterly massive, the MC100 nevertheless maintained the grace and beauty of its Mon Calamari-designed predecessors. Its organic, gentle curves and aesthetically pleasing design belied its lethality. Its hull bristled with dozens of turbolaser and ion cannon batteries, multi-purpose warhead launchers, and tractor beam projectors. The _Tiger Claw_ was one of the mightiest capital ships in the Alliance Navy and in the sunlight of Borleias' star system, she cut an awe-inspiring figure.

The bridge of the _Tiger Claw_ was abuzz with activity. Bridge officers scurried to and fro, barking orders and making last-minute checks. They were eager. A month-long maiden cruise around the Core Worlds was fine and dandy for public relations, but the crew had gotten restless. They had signed up to man one of the newest and most powerful warships in the Galactic Alliance Navy, and by the Force, they were going to make this ship worth the money. Hopefully, if all went well, they would taste their first combat action shortly.

'Engineering reports unusual power fluctuations in conduits aurek through c—'

'Starboard turbolaser decks report all weapons optim—'

'—engines all green and running at full capacity—'

General Wedge Antilles ignored the noise and the chatter. His subordinates knew what they were doing. In the meantime, he had to busy himself with something more in line with his specialty. He stood before a hololith table, above which floated an image of the galaxy. Across the outer rim, dozens of bright red dots glowed like tiny embers, as if to symbolize the worlds and systems that burned under the Maw Irregular Fleet's advance. Admiral Natasi Daala, former Alliance head of state, was on the move again. Her Maw Irregular Fleet, a coalition of mercenaries, scum, and former Imperial soldiers, raided, pillaged, and looted their way across the Rim. His job was simple: to lead the fleet that would put Daala down once and for all.

'Just another day at the office, eh, Wedge?' To his right, a man in the robes of the Jedi Order studied the galactic map, scratching idly at the stubble on his chin. At his hip hung an old lightsaber, lovingly kept and hand-crafted, built ages ago during the first Galactic Civil War. Wedge almost missed those simpler times.

Wedge chuckled. 'You tell me, Luke. I'm just a soldier. You're the one who usually leads the charge to save the galaxy.'

Luke Skywalker, Grand Master of the Jedi Order, gave his old friend a warm smile. 'A soldier is exactly the kind of man we need leading this campaign. You've got this, Wedge. You're the most qualified man I know.'

'How hard could it be, right? I mean, after Isard and Zsinj, Daala should be just like old times,' Wedge muttered.

'It's Myri and Syal, isn't it? You're worried about them.'

'Like you wouldn't believe.'

Luke put a hand on Wedge's shoulder. 'They're grown up, Wedge. They can take care of themselves. You can trust the Rogues and the Wraiths to keep them safe.'

Wedge sighed, suddenly feeling the weight of his rank and years settling on his shoulders. 'You're right. Let's get down to business, then. Any word from the Empire? How are they handling their end of this fight?'

Luke frowned. 'I managed to get in touch with Emperor Fel. He's working to muster a proper battlefleet, but it'll take some time. Fel didn't get any more specific than that, so we'll have to assume we're on our own.'

'The Moffs are at it again, huh? Alright, then,' said Wedge. 'What can—'

'General,' said one of the bridge officers. 'Incoming starfighter squadron. The Rogues are here, sir.'

'Right on time. Tell them to dock at starboard hangar five, lieutenant.'

'Aye aye, sir.'

Wedge tapped a few buttons on the hololith, replacing the galactic map with a diagnostic readout of the ship.

'Alright,' he said, 'let's get all this last-minute crap done quickly. I'm ready for a fight.'

* * *

Nodra screamed as something small and hirsute latched onto his face. Vigil, Ninety, and Rosharra drew their blasters as the Duros dislodged his furry attacker and hurled it against the wall.

'Observation: Target is inanimate. It appears to be a stuffed Ewok.'

'Ooh,' said a voice from behind them, 'looks like Lieutenant Kettch decided to say hello.'

Nodra turned to the source of the voice. He looked at her, aghast, then turned back to the Ewok, then back to her. 'That was in my footlocker. That. Was in. My footlocker. _Why was that there?'_

The girl, dressed in unmarked commando fatigues, shrugged. 'Kettch likes to hide in things sometimes. There's a lot of places to do that on this ship.'

At that moment, Commander Antilles appeared, blaster in hand, still chewing on the last bite of her dinner. 'Whumph gon' on hrr?'

Nodra had turned an incandescent shade of teal. 'Just—Ewok—trap and—'

Syal gulped down her food and glared at the commando. 'Myri, would you at least give my pilots some time to get settled in before you give them the Wraith Squadron hello?'

'Yub yub, Commander,' chorused the Wraiths further down the hall.

* * *

'General, engineering reports hyperdrive is fully charged. We're ready to jump to hyperspace on your orders.'

Wedge settled into his command seat, his expression the very definition of calm. 'Make it so, Lieutenant. Let's get this hunt started.'


	4. 3: Baptism by Fire

3

Baptism by Fire

Aboard the bridge of the cruiser _Halberd_, Captain Bassard grew increasingly irritated by the second. He drummed his fingers on his command chair's armrest, only half-listening to the groveling and pleas he heard over the holocomm.

'Please, Captain,' begged the planetary governor, 'you must give us more time! Our factories and industry have always been diligent in their work! We will have our tribute by the deadline your Admiral arr—'

'And I am telling you,' Bassard said, 'that the deadline has been changed. Admiral Daala told you two months in advance that she would be increasing the tithe requirements, governor.'

'B-but,' the other stammered, 'we cannot possibly meet your requirements today! We have barely produced more than half the materiel you demanded!'

Bassard rolled his eyes. 'Well, that isn't my problem, now is it?' He turned to his gunnery officer. 'Ready our weapons for planetary bombardment. Aim for the capital. If we're lucky, we'll kill the governor and replace him with someone who actually has some backbone.'

The gunnery officer replied with a curt affirmative and began calculating firing solutions at his console. Just then, the ship's sensors picked up something new.

'Sir,' yelled the sensors officer, 'we've got twelve new signatures coming out of hyperspace, starfighter-sized! They're setting a course straight for us! Silhouettes match those of X-wing starfighters!'

Bassard cursed. 'Belay the bombardment orders, Lieutenant Tarmas.' He activated the ship's PA system. 'Attention all crew, we have incoming enemy fighters. Battle stations. I say again, battle stations.'

So, it seemed the governor was merely stalling for time. Bassard grinned predatorily. Well, this prey still had teeth.

* * *

Syal Antilles set her X-wing's strike foils to attack position. 'There it is, boys and girls. Telares IV. Call targets as you see them.'

'Four to Rogues, I tally one _Republic_-class cruiser over the planet, moving to intercept. Looks like they've seen us.'

'Noted, Four,' Syal said, 'I'm also getting twelve smaller signatures . Starfighters, Mandalorian Dunelizards.'

Just then, the enemy fighters relayed their greetings on an open channel. 'Attention, Galactic Alliance _di'kute_, you're outgunned and outnumbered. If you're smart, you'll turn back now.'

'Funny,' Vigil said on the squad channel, 'aren't we the guys with proton torpedoes?'

Why were Mandalorians always so full of themselves? Syal switched to open comms. 'That's cute, Mando boy, but that cruiser still only counts as one. Let's dance.'

With that, she cut the open channel and pushed discretionary power into acceleration and forward shields. As her distance counter ticked down, she switched to proton torpedoes. Stock Dunelizards were armed with nothing more than a pair of medium laser cannons. The XJ-7 had four laser cannons and nine proton torpedoes. Syal almost felt sorry for these overconfident mercenaries. Almost.

Syal heard the ping of a targeting lock as she bracketed the lead fighter. She pulled the trigger. The other Rogues followed suit against their own targets. A dozen streaks of blue light speared forth from the X-wings' ordnance tubes. Almost immediately, the Mandalorian fighters broke formation to evade the incoming torpedoes. Despite their efforts, however, four of the Dunelizards blinked out of existence on her sensors. The remainder reformed and prepared for a head-to-head. Syal switched to lasers and as the two fighter formations closed in, she put the central fighter on her targeting brackets and fired the instant she hit maximum laser range. Four bolts of scarlet light speared into the lead Dunelizard, blowing it into a cloud of rapidly dissipating debris. The squadrons passed and the head-to-head was over. Three enemy fighters remained functional and only one remained undamaged.

'Three Flight,' Syal said into the comm, 'mop up the fighters. One Flight, Two Flight, push on. We'll hit the cruiser.'

* * *

The _Halberd_'s bridge rang with the sounds of blaring klaxons. Alarm notifications for hull punctures, shield failures, engine breakdowns, and weapon malfunctions ran down the length of the diagnostic hologram before Captain Bassard's eyes.

'Port side shields down!'

'We've lost turbolaser batteries ten through fifteen!'

'Engines are nonfunctional, heavy proton torpedo damage!'

Bassard slammed his fist down on his armrest. 'Would someone, _someone_ get me weapons? It's twelve fighters, damn you! It's just twelve fighters!'

'Trying, sir,' yelled his gunnery officer, 'but hitting these fighters is easier said than d—'

The lieutenant never got to finish his sentence. Bassard drew his sidearm and shot Lieutenant Tarmas. With a grunt of effort, the captain heaved the corpse aside and took his seat at the weapons console. A few commands later, and he had slaved one of the ship's surviving quad lasers to the console's controls.

* * *

An explosion rocked Rogue Four's starfighter. 'Sithspit, I'm hit!'

Rogue Three pulled up behind his stricken wingman. 'Four, your top starboard foil and engine are slagged. I'm seeing smoke and fire as well.'

Beiner's voice sounded ragged as he fought to retain control of his fighter. 'My astro's still functional. Running damage control now. I'm still fully combat capable.'

Windspeaker shook his head. 'Alright, Four, but take it easy. I'll take the lead on our next run.'

As Rogues Three and Four pulled away from their craft, they inverted and looped back to strafe it again. The ship was falling apart, great gouts of flame erupting from ruptured hull, its lasers firing in staggered bursts like the last, blood-crazed swipes of a mortally wounded krayt dragon. Windspeaker locked onto the cruiser again and armed his last two torpedoes. It would do no good to fire at maximum range, as the torps would just travel straight for the closest piece of the cruiser. He closed in to ensure that the torps' path took them straight to his target: the starboard turbolaser banks. At one kilometer, he loosed his last two torpedoes and pulled up. Seconds later, Beiner did the same.

'Good shot, Four,' Three said as he checked his astromech's camera link. 'I'm seeing lots of secondaries. Nothing's coming out of those guns again.'

'Thanks, Three. Let's turn back and double-tap just to make sure, eh?'

* * *

Aresh cut his throttle down to fifty percent, slowing his pursuit as the Dunelizard turned suddenly. The enemy fighter broke to starboard. If the pilot was any good, he would try to force the faster X-wing to overshoot, thereby gaining the momentary advantage. Rogue Nine would make sure that never happened. He matched the Dunelizard's path every step of the way, pulling a turn tighter than the Mandalorian fighter could manage. For a brief instant, the fighter's cockpit flashed into Aresh's targeting brackets. He pulled the trigger. The four laser bolts skewered the Dunelizard's cockpit and blew out the other side. Bereft of its pilot, the fighter flew straight on, dead in the void. To his X-wing's port side, Aresh saw an explosion.

'Well done, Ten,' he said. 'Eleven, Twelve, how are you two doing?'

'Target vaped, Nine,' Sund said. 'That's the last of the enemy fighters.'

'Good,' Aresh said. He turned his fighter on its wing and made for the embattled cruiser. 'Now let's see if we can get a slice of the big one.'

* * *

Vigil unloaded his last torpedo on one of the _Halberd_'s quad turrets and switched to lasers, strafing the cruiser's hull plating. He cut his speed and fired as quickly as his cannons could cycle, slagging a number of the ship's broadside turbolasers as he passed. One of his missed its mark, however, and merely grazed one of the quad turrets. In slow motion, he saw it traverse and bracket him. He was too close to it to dodge and his shield levels were fare from adequate for blocking the shot. And then the next instant, it erupted into a ball of flame as his wingman landed a killing shot.

'Thanks, Six, I owe you for that.'

'Statement: No problem, Five.'

'Two Flight, sitrep.'

'Seven here,' Nodra responded, 'all functional. Guns on our end are silenced.'

'Five, Eight,' Rosharra grunted, 'still flying. Took a hit that fused my torpedo tubes shut, though.'

'Noted,' Vigil said. He switched to squad comms. 'Lead, Five. We've silenced the topside guns.'

'Acknowledged, Five. We've silenced the cruiser.'

Syal switched to an open comm channel. 'Attention, _Republic_-class cruiser, this is Rogue Squadron, your weapons have been silenced and you're falling apart at the seams. Are you ready to surrender, yet?'

'This is Captain Bassard of the Maw Irregular Fleet.' The man on the other end of the line sounded positively furious. 'Try harder, Rogue Squadron. I can still take you d—_hurk!_'

'This is, uh, Lieutenant Seinman of the Maw Irregular Fleet. The captain has been, er, silenced.'

Syal raised an eyebrow. 'Oh? Are _you_ prepared to issue your ship's surrender, Lieutenant?'

'Yes, Rogue Squadron, I am. We stand down. Just try not to damage this ship any further, please. We prefer keeping our squishy bits intact.'

* * *

While the _Tiger Claw_ sent transport shuttles to retrieve the crew of the _Halberd_, Rogue Squadron descended towards Telares IV's surface to rendezvous with its governor. From orbit, it was a pretty blue-green gem of a world with tropical rainforests along the equator. Surrounding the planet were a number of small space docks linked to the planet by orbital elevators near its largest cities. At higher latitudes, the rainforests gave way to temperate woods, space age-level industry, and sprawling mountain ranges. As the twelve X-wings entered atmosphere, they caught sights of factory complexes and starscrapers, still new and shiny. The planet had the marks of a nascent industrial power here in the Outer Rim. Curiously, Syal saw little in the way of surface-to-orbit defenses or military installations. No wonder Daala wanted this planet. It was defenseless, progressive, and on the road to further development.

The Rogues arrived above their designated landing pad to a gigantic fanfare. Confetti, colorful banners, and cheering crowds met the twelve X-wings as if they were angels of salvation.

'Lead to Rogues, try to be diplomatic here.'

'Query,' droned IG-90, 'being diplomatic means saying something soothing as you pull the trigger, right?'

'Seven here,' said Nodra, 'isn't this a bit ostentatious? I mean, it was just one cruiser and a squadron of jumped up mercs.'

'Just smile, wave, and be handsome, Seven,' replied Tur'in'akar. 'Just save the pretty ones for me.'

'Professional remarks only. And no booze, Rogues. We're still on the job until the General says otherwise.'

_That_ got groans from most of her organic squad mates. For the sake of decorum, Syal decided to forego her usual post-flight checks and instructed her astromech to do the job for her. She hit the cockpit release and tucked her helmet under her arm. One Flight landed behind her, forming a neat diamond formation that the other two flights mimicked to either side. The capital city of Telares IV was in the planet's southern temperate zone. Even through their insulated flight suits, some of the Rogues shivered in the planet's autumnal breeze. Many of the natives wore furs, heavy coats, and multiple layers of colorful underclothes. Some wore blasters at their hips, but the designs looked cheap and archaic. The planetary governor himself arrived in an outdated personal shuttle model, one that had been in use long before the Clone Wars. While it was well kept and ostentatiously decorated, there was no doubt that even this frontier world's aristocracy did not have the technological amenities of the Mid Rim or Core Worlds. Syal motioned for the Rogues to form up in a line to either side of her as the shuttle's boarding ramp opened. The cheers from the women got noticeably louder when Tur'in'akar dismounted and removed his helmet. Syal didn't blame them. The man was hologenic-square-jawed, broad-shouldered, and muscular, the Twi'lek looked equally at home in a fighter and on a poster.

Out stepped a sextet of personal bodyguards, clad in energy-damping cloth and plate, wielding more modern-looking blaster rifles. None of them looked like they'd seen combat, let alone the kind experienced by Galactic Alliance commandos or Imperial stormtroopers. Well, at least they went about things professionally. Satisfied that the area was safe, one of them muttered a command on his comm. The governor, flanked by two more bodyguards, stepped forth to meet his planet's saviors. Telares IV's planetary ruler was a lanky, hunched, beleaguered old human male, aged and balding prematurely due to worry and stress. He shook Syal's hand energetically.

'On behalf of Telares IV, thank you, young lady. For chasing off those dreadful raiders, my people and I are in your debt. Please, miss, tell me your name, that my people will know who drove the pirates away.'

Syal gave the governor a warm smile. 'Commander Syal Antilles of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. These men and women with me are Rogue Squadron. And there's no need to thank us, governor. We're only doing our jobs. We're here to bring order back to the Outer Rim.'

'But please, accept my thanks nonetheless, Commander Antilles. My people do not have the experience or equipment necessary to fight off invaders. Your timely arrival saved many lives here today. I fear the captain of the _Halberd_ would have bombarded or strafed us had our talks soured any further.'

Syal bowed with a flourish. 'That's what Rogue Squadron is for, governor. Now, if you'll excuse me, we need to return to the fleet.'

Telares IV's governor frowned. 'Oh, won't you at least let us honor you with a bit of a feast? A soiree of sorts?'

'Duty calls, governor. The Rim's a big place, and we have a lot of fires to put out.'

'Very well, Commander Antilles. May fortune smile upon you. And send your superiors my thanks as well, please.'

'And you as well,' Syal said. As if on cue, the other Rogues bowed and broke formation to mount their fighters again. Before she closed her cockpit, she gave the crowd a salute and a smile.

'Huh,' Vigil said on squad comms. 'Nobody died.'

'What,' Leda replied, 'were you hoping for a few casualties?'

'Pass, Two. Any mission we all walk away from is a good mission.'

And with that, the Rogues took off, rising up again into space.

'Rogue Leader to _Tiger Claw_,' Syal said as she activated long-range comms, 'Telares IV expresses its gratitude. Are we cleared to head home?'

* * *

Wedge smiled to himself. To most listeners, Syal's message rang with the signature Antilles calm. Wedge, however, easily caught the smile behind it all. Everyone was coming back safe and sound from this mission.

'_Claw_ to Rogues, head on back to the nest. Good job out there. _Tiger Claw_ out.'

He cut the channel and turned back to the initial reports the _Halberd_'s surviving crew members provided. Durasteel, concussion missiles, and proton torpedoes—those were the most notable things Daala's ships demanded on a regular basis. Wedge understood the need to keep the Maw Irregular Fleet supplied, but then one of the bridge officers confessed that they'd moved the due date for tithes up. Daala was up to something, but until they had time to further interrogate the captured Maw crewmen, Wedge would be left in the dark. He hated being left in the dark.

'Daala's up to something,' Wedge said. 'Something is very, very wrong here.'

'Like you wouldn't believe, Wedge,' said Luke. The Jedi Master had been by his side on the bridge for the entirety of the campaign so far. Luke was a welcome presence, bringing with him an aura of calm wherever he went. Wedge didn't know whether it was the result of Force powers or just the sheer awe and respect Luke commanded, but he wasn't complaining. It was good to have a familiar face aboard. Idly, Wedge wondered what Tycho, Hobbie, and Wes were up to.

'Your sixth sense is tingling?'

'My sixth sense is tingling,' Luke confirmed. 'To repeat an old cliché, I sense a disturbance in the Force—a dark presence radiating from the Maw.'

Wedge raised an eyebrow. 'You think Daala's got something? A Sith artifact or weapon of sorts?'

Shrugging, Luke said, 'I don't know for sure yet, but it's big. Something ancient, evil, and hungry. There's more going on here than Naval Command thinks.'

'Well, I'm glad you're along for the ride, then. How's Ben doing?'

'He's getting antsy. So far, it's been nothing but patrols, recon, and void skirmishes. He's itching to get his boots on the ground.'

'I'm getting the same thing from the Wraiths. But I'm not sending our ground-pounders in blind. I want to do a bit more recon, capture a few more Maw officers and ships before we break out the big guns. If you're right about the Force, we'll need to know as much about Daala's plans and forces as possible before we face the Maw head-on.'

Luke nodded. 'And Daala only gives her most trusted captains access to the star routes to the inner Maw.'

The Maw Cluster was a hazardous slice of space filled with black holes, radiation, plasma, and strong gravitational forces. Only the most foolhardy, desperate, or knowledgeable ship crews dared to travel there, and even then, most rarely ventured beyond Kessel. Allegedly, Daala was the only one in the galaxy who had full knowledge of the safe routes into and out of the Maw due to her assignment there during the days of the old Galactic Empire. As a result, she had a nigh-impregnable position from which to send out raiders and pirates to terrorize the Outer Rim.

'Right you are. We'll probably only find those star maps on her bigger capital ships. We'll need to handle those carefully. If we face them conventionally, the captains might wipe the star maps from their ship computers' memories. I've got a plan for those, though.'

'The Hawkbat trick?'

'The Hawkbat trick. The moment we get a chance, I'll turn Ben and the Wraiths loose.'

'Good.' Luke turned to the ship's sensor readouts. 'Seems like the Rogues are back. Let's give them the news from the _Halberd_ crew, shall we?'


	5. 4: Awaken

4

Awaken

The Rogues gathered in the _Tiger Claw_'s briefing amphitheater, some still jittery from the adrenaline rush of combat. Wedge, Luke, Syal, and Aresh stood in the center by the hololith. Above them hovered a hologram of one of the _Halberd_'s surviving bridge officers, who had just divulged his report of his ship's mission. Millions of tonnes of titanium-reinforced alusteel, tens of thousands of concussion missiles, and a truly staggering amount of nonperishable food-those were the supplies Daala's men were tasked with bringing home.

'Good news, everyone!' exclaimed Aresh enthusiastically. 'Daala's building another superweapon!'

The entire room erupted into groans.

'Again?' complained Leda. 'But that's what _every_ Imperial warlord does! Can't we get something more original?'

Wedge snorted. 'Are you telling me you'd rather face off against a fleet of Missile Boats?'

'Yes,' chorused the Rogues.

Luke and Wedge exchanged worried looks.

'Just kidding,' said Aresh. 'Daala's building a Super Star Destroyer.'

That got sighs of relief. Some of the Rogues even whooped with joy.

'Sorry,' Leda interrupted, raising her hand, 'how can we tell that just from alusteel, missiles, and food?'

Syal tapped a button on the hololith, moving to another slide. This one displayed the specifications of an _Executor_-class Super Star Destroyer. 'First off, there's only one sort of project that comes to mind when we look at the scale of the shipments Daala's demanding from Telares IV alone-an SSD.'

Aresh moved to the next slide, which displayed charts and graphs of financial data from numerous shipyards. 'These,' he said, 'are subsidiaries of Kuat Drive Yards, Fondor Shipyards, and numerous arms corporations based in the Rim. If you'll notice, they've displayed record profits and outputs in the months since Daala was deposed from her position as Galactic Alliance Chief-of-State.'

The Mirialan began to put the facts together. 'So you think Daala's responsible for the jump in sales.'

'We're pretty much positive,' replied Wedge. 'Remember that the Maw's gotten bolder. It's sending ships further and further away from the nest, even those capital ships Daala's so loath to waste. That tells us she's got a higher influx of materiel to feed her war machine. Now we just need you Rogues to confirm our suspicions.'

'And you know what that means,' said Syal with forced cheer. 'Customs duty!'

More groans all around. That would mean spending hours upon hours patrolling sector shipping routes, scanning freighters, and waiting-not exactly the kind of work a Rogue signs up for. Nodra silently hoped that the Wraiths would have an even more boring task ahead of them.

* * *

Commander Voort 'Piggy' SaBinring hefted the lid off one of the crates laid out on the floor of the Wraiths' briefing room. As the Wraiths moved closer to get a better look, Trey Courser let out an appreciative whistle. Inside the crate lay a full suit of heavy battle armor, painted a dark green with a T-shaped visor, wrist-launchers, and a number of other knicknacks necessary for an aspiring hired gun.

'Oh yes,' Piggy said, 'that's proper Mandalorian _beskar_. Half of you will be wearing these while infiltrating the Maw's forces. The other half of us will be playing Hawkbat.'

'Pretty,' said Myri Antilles, 'what do we blow up first?'

* * *

Natasi Daala fought to keep her temper in check as she read the most recent reports from her raiding forces. She was, indeed, working on a Super Star Destroyer, and progress had gone swimmingly. However, the recent return of Rogue Squadron would undoubtedly bring all of that crashing down unless she put an end to it. She tapped a button on her desk's commlink and opened a channel to one of her officers.

'Colonel Yulan,' she said, 'what's the status of our mercenary forces?'

'Spirits remain high, Admiral, no doubt due to the steadiness and size of their paychecks. The news of the Galactic Alliance task force has made a number of them uneasy, but they'll work nonetheless.'

'They'd better, Colonel. I do not tolerate disobedience, even from scum as lowly as them.'

'Nor shall I, Admiral. I'll maintain discipline as necessary. Given the strength of the Alliance fleet, shall I put out a recruitment call?'

Daala paused for a moment to consider the option. 'Do it. We can always raid more systems if we fall short on funds. I'll allocate additional funds for your recruitment budget as well.'

'Thank you, Admiral. Is there anything else I can do for you?'

'Actually, yes,' Daala said, pulling up the image of a planet on her holo-projector. It was a white orb, almost entirely covered in ice save for the green spots that pockmarked its surface. 'Has there been any word from our Belsavis expedition yet?'

'One moment, please. Ah, here we go. Captain Saric claims that his team has made a successful insertion. He has a ground team already deployed and mapping out the prison block.'

A thin smile crept across the admiral's face. 'Good, good. I expect Saric to update us again shortly. Thank you, Colonel. That will be all.'

Daala cut the transmission and turned her attention back to the main task at hand. Antilles, Skywalker, _and_ the Rogues all here at once? Even if it did cost her billions, she had the chance to crush them all. She just needed a little more time to ready her trump cards. The Super Star Destroyer was just one piece of the machine. Aside from the package on Belsavis, she still had her puppet in the Empire. Then there was the artifact, a last resort but an effective one nonetheless, if her sources were correct. Daala poured herself a cup of coffee and swiveled in her chair, facing the starfield outside her study's window. The pieces were moving in this great galactic game. She would need to move hers carefully in the coming months.

* * *

The vault door opened with a deathly rasp, the ancient hydraulics and electronics protesting after an eternity of inactivity. For the first time in millennia, the footsteps of the living echoed in this lonely chamber beneath the surface of Belsavis. Water had begun to leak into this end of the maximum security block from the rainforest above, dripping into the puddles that had gathered on the worn floors. The first to enter were the mercenaries, considered little more than undisciplined cannon fodder. They were a varied bunch, some with nothing more than padded clothes and old rifles and others with uniforms, armor, and sophisticated optics and weaponry. Several had already fallen to the prison's myriad traps and automated defenses, many of which had stood the test of time. They had braved gas chambers, wall- and ceiling-mounted turrets, and a host of droid protectors. Though they neared the end of their search, they left nothing to chance.

Behind them were Daala's own Maw loyalists, those who could be trusted with enforcing discipline and seeing this mission through to its end. These men and women wore the stormtrooper armor of the old Galactic Empire and carried all the necessary equipment. And behind _them_ marched a band of technicians and slicers, who were tasked with cracking open the package that lay within.

The comm crackled as someone opened a channel. 'Vanguard to Maw,' said one of the mercenary soldiers, 'I think we've found your objective. Requesting you come up and confirm, over.'

Thumbing his commlink, the Maw sergeant in charge of the ground team replied, 'Vanguard, this is Maw One, we acknowledge. I'm on my way now.'

The sergeant pushed on ahead with his squad, hands held close to weapons in case things turned ugly. He motioned for a few of the technicians to follow him as well. What they found inside were carbonite units behind stasis fields that somehow still functioned despite the facilities' disrepair.

'Yep, this is definitely it,' the sergeant said. 'I want these stasis units disengaged shortly. The Admiral wants these prisoners freed as soon as possible.'

'Aye, sir,' said one of the technicians. Within a few minutes, the first of the stasis fields fizzled and dissipated. The lead tech proceeded to initiate the defrosting process. Soon, its occupant was free. The prisoner wore luxurious robes made of thick red and black fabric with golden pauldrons. He also wore an intricately carved mask, shaped into a stylized sharp-toothed skull. For a few seconds, not a single noise was made save for the prisoner's heavy breathing as he took in his first gulps of air in over three thousand years. Then one of the mercenaries dropped to his knees, sobbing uncontrollably. Then two, then three, then four. More and more of the intruders began to break down, clawing at their eyes, weeping, praying, and calling for loved ones. Lord Kharak rose to his feet, basking in the terror of the worms around him. With a single flick of the wrist, he drained them all with the Force, emitting a death field that engulfed the entirety of the prison complex. With another flick, he used the Force to destroy the delicate machinery holding his two inmates. He channeled the Force energies he'd collected into his older companions, infusing their atrophied senses and muscles with twisted life as they returned to the galaxy. It was only courtesy, after all. They had introduced him to the power of the Phobis device-it was natural that he would repay part of that debt with this trifling favor.

'AWAKEN, MY MASTERS!'

* * *

Captain Saric frowned as he listened to the noise coming in through his ship's comm systems. It was a hellish sound, continuous and high pitched. 'Comms, what in the blazes is that infernal noise?'

His communications officer stammered, 'Uh, we're, uh, unsure, sir. It's coming from pretty much every settlement on the surf-no, wait, it's spreading, sir.'

Saric was no rookie-he could tell when something was horribly wrong with the mission. 'Enhance the sound, then.'

The officer did, clearing up some of the static and the background noise of Belsavis' jungles. Then Saric wished that he hadn't issued that order. There was no mistaking it. That sound came from every living being on on the surface. The planet Belsavis screamed, and the Belsavis system screamed with it.


	6. 5: Blue Milk Run

5

Blue Milk Run

'I spy with my little eye something beginning with "s",' said Windspeaker.

'If it's something with the word "star" in it again, I'm going to shoot you,' deadpanned Leda.

Customs duty really was the most boring thing in the galaxy outside of a vacation on Agamar. They'd been tasked with patrolling one of the minor trade routes leading to the Maw Cluster, scanning shipments and navicomputer data. It was simultaneously mind-numbingly tedious and dangerous, as scanning a ship's contents required the Rogues to fly close enough to convoys' ships to shake hands with the pilots. If one of the freighters or escort ships decided to get uppity, there was little stopping them from taking a good chunk out of a Rogue's shields or hull with their point defense cannons. Even Syal began to feel the ennui coming on. Well, at least their shift was almost over. In another couple of hours, they would switch out with a flight of E-wings from High Flight Squadron and turn in for sleep and food.

'Three to Flight,' said Windspeaker on the comm, 'I'm reading another set of signatures jumping out of hyperspace. Bigger than the usual convoys, too.'

This news roused One Flight from its boredom. They formed up on Syal's X-wing and approached the new arrivals. As they closed in, the convoy's sensor signatures became clear enough to determine its composition: ten Action IV transports and a pair of bulbous mining freighters.

'Four,' Syal said, 'your turn.'

Beiner uttered an affirmative and pushed on ahead. 'Attention convoy, this is Rogue Squadron. You've entered Galactic Alliance space. Please halt and stand by for a cargo search.'

'Acknowledged, Rogue Squadron. This is Action VI transport _Bounty_. We've nothing to hide. You're cleared to approach.'

Sweat beaded on Beiner's forehead. While customs duty was boring, there was no doubt that here in the Outer Rim, it was a dangerous prospect. His X-wing had to move within two kilometers of each ship to get a proper reading of its contents and it was almost certain that these ships would be more heavily armed and armored than the vessels that plied the comparatively safe hyperlanes in the Core and Mid-Rim. This could be completely over the table—the Action series transports needed aftermarket armaments to survive in the lawless fringes of the Rim Worlds, so a blaster turret or four didn't seem out of place. Then again, this could be a trap. It was definitely a trap.

'Rogue Squadron,' said _Bounty's_ shipmaster, 'just a heads-up—our turrets are automated. We've silenced them. Pay no heed when they start tracking you.'

'That makes me feel so very safe, _Bounty_,' replied Beiner. He switched to the secure squad band. 'Leader, this is Four requesting you close in and watch my six. I get the feeling this is going to get hot really fast.'

'Four, Lead, acknowledged. Continue with the search.'

The first Action VI, _Bounty_, was clean. Beiner's R5 unit pulled up signatures of foodstuffs. Nothing immediately incriminating there. He pushed on ahead to the next ship in line, another Action VI, designate _Cornucopia_. The distance counter ticked down again. Beiner fought the urge to unload on the transport, but his finger hovered anxiously over the trigger on the stick.

His R5 unit bleated in alarm. He pushed all of his diversionary power to starboard shields as a quartet of green laser bolts pierced the transport's starboard armor plating, actually a façade which fell away the moment the fighter beneath opened fire.

'TIEs!' Beiner barked on the comm. 'Some of the transports are pocket carriers!'

'Admiral Daala sends her regards,' said _Bounty_'s shipmaster.

Surely enough, dozens of other TIEs broke away from four of the transports. They were curious models, their edges sharper and more pronounced than even those of the wickedly-shaped TIE Interceptors. The TIEs' solar wing panels even unfolded like X-wing strike foils. These were TIE Hunters, originally built primarily for Imperial Storm Commando units. In this day and age, they were out of production, their factories now put to use for more cost-efficient TIE fighters and interceptors. How did Daala manage to get her hands on such rare and expensive starships?

To make things worse, two of the other Action VI transports were actually _Interceptor-_class frigates, Action VI models heavily modified with torpedo launchers, turbolasers, and upgraded shields. Beiner cursed, turning his X-wing on its port wing and pulling away from the transports' kill zone. His shields plummeted, even as he pulled every trick and maneuver he knew to throw off the turrets' aim. Behind him, a pair of TIEs had broken formation to pursue him. The rest gunned straight for the other members of One Flight.

To make things worse, the two mining vessels had replaced their spherical cargo holds with gravity well generators, preventing the Rogues from pulling off the most obvious answer to this situation.

Syal gritted her teeth. 'One Flight, prioritize the baby Interdictors.' She then punched a button on her instrument panel, activating the distress beacon temporarily mounted on her fighter. Hopefully, there would be Alliance forces in adjacent systems with the capacity to respond. The problem now was making sure they could survive long enough to either cripple the mining transports or hold out until reinforcements.

* * *

Aboard the _Tiger Claw_, Vigil punched the open button for the door to his flight group's billet, still half-dressed in his piloting gear. Two Flight had only just finished its customs shift when the distress call rang across the cruiser. Nodra was halfway to the refresher with a dataslate of _The Lusty Trandoshan Maid_ before his Corellian squadmate had burst in.

'Good gods, Vig, my first combat j—'

'Screw your combat jack,' Vigil breathed, 'One Flight's in trouble.'

The Duros tossed the dataslate over his shoulder, grabbed his flight gear from a peg on the wall and hurried out.

* * *

Syal vaped another TIE as it flashed into her crosshairs, taking Leda's pursuer out of the fight. So far, all of One Flight remained intact. Beiner had lost a strike foil and the connecting engine, but Syal had to trust Three to keep his wingman alive.

'This is Lead, I'm starting my attack run on one of the mining freighters. Two, you're my wing.'

Leda fell in behind Syal, arming her torpedoes and aiming right at one of the gravity well generators on the closest Interdictor. The gravity generators required a staggering amount of power, far more than would be safe for a mining freighter's power plant to supply. To even keep such things running, the ship had to sacrifice some of its other systems—shields and engines were usually the first to go. That made them easy pickings for torpedo-armed craft. As the two X-wings closed in, Syal fired her torpedoes. Leda did the same a split second later and let out a whoop as one of the freighter's starboard gravity well generators detonated in a great ball of fire. Continuing their attack run, Syal and Leda cut their throttles, switched to lasers and stitched fire along the surface of the next one behind it.

Syal's astromech, Spark, sent a message to her instrument panel: SECOND GENERATOR DESTROYED.

Despite this small victory, though, Syal knew that the only thing that could get them out of here alive would be reinforcements. There were simply too many guns and too many hostiles. Alone, One Flight would be overwhelmed by sheer volume of fire. Grazing shots from enemy lasers chipped away at her shields. A wingpair of TIEs tagged her with torpedo locks and fired. Syal accelerated, aiming for the nearest enemy ship, one of the pocket carriers. Moments before she collided with the Action VI, she yanked the stick up, climbing sharply, before twisting her fighter and diving. Her fighter's hull groaned with the stress of the maneuver and even through her inertial compensators, Syal felt the g-forces keenly. Behind her, the Action VI erupted into flame as the torpedoes impacted its hull.

'Three's taken an ion bolt!' Beiner exclaimed. 'Three's out of the fight!'

'Four, stay calm and stick close to him for as long as you can. Two, are you still with me?'

Leda's voice quavered as she spoke. Syal didn't blame her. 'Y-yes, Lead. I'm your wing.'

'No, change of plans. Support Three and Four. I'll try and hit the mining freighters on my own. Maybe I can bait some of the TIEs away from you guys, too.'

'But—'

'That's an order, Two.'

Well, here goes nothing, Syal thought to herself. Let's see that Antilles luck Uncle Tycho always talked about.

* * *

Booster Terrik sat up in his captain's chair, squinting at a disturbance on the _Errant Venture_'s sensor readouts.

'Harman, what's going on? Clear up that signal, would you?'

Booster's first mate barked an affirmative and complied. 'Looks like a distress signal, sir. It looks like Galactic Alliance co—'

'I know that!' Booster snapped. 'And I know that specific code, too. That's Rogue Squadron. Set up a hyperspace jump to the Rogues' signal.'

'Already on it, sir,' said Harman. 'I've also sent a signal to the rest of the crew to set up for combat.'

Booster grinned wolfishly. 'Good man. Let's go be the heroes, shall we?'

* * *

Spark shrieked in alarm. _IMPERIAL II_-CLASS STAR DESTROYER ENTERING SYSTEM.

Well, crap, Syal thought, I guess the old Antilles luck was _bad_ luck.

THE SHIP IDENTIFIES ITSELF AS THE _ERRANT VENTURE._

Oh. Never mind, then.

Syal heard a familiar and very, very welcome growl speak on an open comm channel. 'Looks like we got here just in the nick of time, eh, folks? What does that make us, Harman?'

'Big damn heroes, sir?' replied another.

'Ain't we just.'

1,600 meters of red-painted alusteel, ten turbolasers, and ten ion cannons bore down on the furball, tearing into the shields and hulls of the Actions and _Interceptor_-class frigates. Fighters began to deploy from the _Errant Venture_'s hangar bays. They were a ragtag mix of Uglies and old models like the Xg-1 Star Wing, but they were a welcome sight nonetheless.

Syal breathed a sigh of relief. '_Errant Venture_, this is Rogue Leader. Damn, are you a sight for sore eyes.'

'Syal? Syal Antilles?' Booster's smile was almost audible over the channel. 'I thought your dad taught you to stay out of trouble, young lady.'

Syal laughed. 'I'm a Rogue, Booster. Finding trouble is in the job description. One of my fighters got hit with an ion blast. Could you pull him in for a quick fix?'

'I'll see what I can do,' rumbled the old smuggler. 'Hopefully, these tractor beams are still operational.'

Syal pulled up alongside the lead formation of Booster's fighters and waggled her wings in greeting.

'Star Wing, those mining freighters are priority targets. Their cargo holds have been replaced with grav well generators. If you can hit those, we'll be golden.'

'Noted, Rogue Leader,' said a high-pitched voice, probably that of a Gand. 'We can handle the big ones from here. Just keep the TIEs off us.'

'Can do.' Syal switched channels to the squad band. 'Two, Four, the _Venture_'s pulling Three in for repairs. Form up on me as soon as he's clear.'

She pulled her X-wing in a tight arc away from the Star Wings and uglies and made for the nearest swarm of TIEs. A flight of Hunters turned to meet her in a head-to-head.

'Four on one odds,' Syal said,' just another day at the office, eh, Spark?'

The astromech's response tone started high then dropped in pitch, the closest equivalent to a sigh an R2 unit could make.

* * *

Two and Three Flights exited hyperspace mere seconds later, right on top of the furball. Behind it were the _Tiger Claw_ and a mix of frigates and corvettes, the most ships Wedge could pull together in the few moments he could spare. Countless more ships from the fleet were en route to respond, but Wedge couldn't wait for them, not while Rogues were in danger. Immediately, Vigil, Nodra, Rosharra, and IG-90 acquired their own targets and dove into the fray.

The TIE Hunters gunning for Syal jinked and sideslipped in an effort to break the new target locks.

'Rogue Nine, is that you?'

'Sorry we're late to the party, boss. We had to gather a few friends.'

'So did the bad guys, from the looks of it,' said Vigil.

* * *

At the system's edge, more Maw ships exited from hyperspace, no doubt reinforcing the ambushers now that their attack had gone awry. Two more _Republic_-class cruisers, four _Scimitar_-class frigates, and six _Crusader_-class corvettes had jumped in, disgorging strike craft and arranging themselves into combat formation.

'Sir,' said one of the _Tiger Claw_'s bridge officers, 'with these new arrivals, we're outnumbered.'

'But not outgunned,' said Wedge. 'Let's see what sort of teeth this ship has, shall we? Send High Flight, Anvil, and Razorback Squadrons to back up the Rogues. Have _Zero Gravitas_ and _Corona_ deal with the enemy corvettes, while our own CR-90s intercept incoming fighters. We'll deal with the _Scimitars _and _Republic_s. Full speed ahead, ladies and gentlemen. And someone get that ImpStar Deuce on the horn.'

While Wedge handled the details of command, Luke Skywalker took his own place on the bridge, sitting cross-legged on one of the bucket seats and channeling the Force. He reached out to the hearts and minds of every Alliance asset in the system, bolstering their fighting spirit and stamina with his own. Battle meditation was an old technique, a tried and true power that brought hope and strength to one's allies and, if one so chose, fear to his enemies. Of course, the expansion of one's consciousness also served a more mundane purpose.

* * *

_Dive now_, said a voice in her head. Instinctively, Syal complied, inadvertently dodging an ion blast from an incoming TIE Hunter. That was odd, Syal thought to herself. She could have sworn that the voice was-

_Syal, it's Uncle Luke. The TIE's still on you._

A mere instant later, Syal heard the tone of a hostile laser lock. She sideslipped to starboard, dodging a burst of green laser fire from her pursuer. Wait, how and what-

_Midichlorians, Syal. I'll explain later. Need to go run flight control for the others._

But-

_Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep._

He hung up on her. How the hell does someone even do that? She shook her head and diverted her attention back to the furball. She cut her throttle and pulled hard on the stick into a tight koiogran turn. Bolts of energy flashed past her fighter and fizzed against her shields, turning her front viewport into a cloud of neon greens and blues. She twitched the stick slightly, centering her crosshairs on where she thought the TIE would be in the next second. Laser lock.

One more fighter down, and a whole lot more to go. Diverting power to shield recharge, Syal turned back from the edge of the furball and flew back into the thick of it.

* * *

Wedge studied the tactical display on the _Tiger Claw_'s bridge hololith, taking in the rapid real-time flow of data. Silently, he tapped out commands on the machine, rearranging his escort ships' formations to suit the flow of battle. Far out on his starboard flank, a CR-90, _Firelance,_ and a Nebulon-B, _Black Reef_, had pushed too far forward after destroying a pair of _Crusader_ corvettes. He set a waypoint on the spherical map and sent them the coordinates and an order to fall back. That would hopefully draw some of the enemy's ships or fighters out.

Daala's men fell for the feint. One of the _Republic_-class cruisers surged forward to fill the gap in the enemy formation along with a squadron of Scyk fighters. Wedge countered by pushing _Firelance_ up to deal with the fighters and draw the cruiser's fire. Then he sent a portion of his reserves, issuing orders for a squadron each of B-wings and E-wings to drop in on top of the cruiser. Meanwhile, the Rogues and Booster's uglies and Star Wings had taken care of the original ambush force and were now in hot pursuit of Daala's retreating TIEs. He ran the numbers, comparing fighter speed and acceleration and the distance between the two fighter groups. He frowned.

'Rogues,' he said on the comm, 'cancel your pursuit and hit the _Scimitar_ and _Republic_ cruisers. You won't catch up to them before they jump out of system.'

Syal responded in affirmative. Wedge saw the X-wings decelerate sharply, an indicator that they'd stopped their pursuit and now prepared for an attack run on the nearest _Scimitar_ frigate. Satisfied with the Rogues' predicament, Wedge switched frequencies to speak with the _Errant Venture_'s shipmaster.

'Booster, your fighters won't catch up to the TIEs in time.'

The old smuggler considered his options for a moment. 'I'll send my strike craft to back up the Rogues. Meanwhile, we'll tackle the surviving _Crusaders _and keep their guns away from the fighters.'

'Exactly what I was thinking, Booster. And thank you again for your support.'

'Any time, Wedge. We'll talk more about this later, eh? And bring the Rogues in as well.'

'Sure thing, Booster.'

Wedge looked back at the display. The battle was won. It was only a matter of minimizing casualties and damage now, but something else bothered him. TIE Hunters? Gravity well generators? Those were too rare, too expensive for a Rim warlord to spend so freely on a fight like this, and with so little support. Only the Empire had the money, infrastructure, and resources to do that, and the Empire had openly fought with the Maw Irregular Fleet on numerous occasions. Hunters were a rare breed, built solely for Imperial Storm Commandos and about as ubiquitous as the TIE Avenger or Royal Guard Interceptor. Gravity well generators were even more astronomically expensive to produce and field. An Imperial ally, perhaps? A raid on an Imperial arms cache or factory? The force arrayed here today only raised more questions in Wedge's mind. What other hidden resources did Daala have? Just how deep were her pockets?

Luke spoke up suddenly, reading the expression on his colleague's face. He didn't even need the Force to know what his old friend was thinking. 'I don't like this either, Wedge. The Empire needs to have a better idea of what's going on here.'

'I know.'


	7. 6: Pieces of the Puzzle

6

Pieces of the Puzzle

Unlike most Star Destroyers, _Errant Venture_ came with a considerable number of amenities thanks to the entrepreneurs who had set up shop. Wedge and Booster sat in a corner booth in one of the ship's cantinas. The Rogues had stopped by briefly for formalities and handshakes, but they hadn't stayed for long. As expected, Booster had gone for Whyren's Reserve. Wedge, meanwhile, had opted for a non-alcoholic fruit beverage-he couldn't afford to be buzzed in the event of an emergency.

'The news of the TIE Hunters has the Empire quite angry,' Wedge remarked.

Booster grunted, his voice thick with sarcasm. 'A Moff stealing supplies and funding pirate scum? How unexpected.' He punctuated his reply by downing the contents of his glass.

'Point,' said Wedge. 'Still, though, it's worrying. You can't just fish up a few squadrons of Hunters out of nowhere. Eyeballs and squints? Sure, those are easy enough to find, but acquiring rare fighters like the ones we faced today? That might be grounds for some actual concern there, Booster.'

The old smuggler considered the point for a moment, scratching idly at his chin. 'Maybe. But if I had a few more turbolasers on this thing, I might-'

'Look, Booster, I don't think I'm at liberty to-'

'Bantha fodder, Wedge. You're a general now, and I've got to protect my business interests. After the last war, my crew's been aching for some extra protection on this tub. Besides, I've even got the perfect excuse for you.'

Wedge raised a tired eyebrow. 'Shoot.'

Booster leaned in close, his eyes bright with a mischievous glint. 'Say my crew and I volunteered to help you out out of a legitimate need to protect our business interests here in the Rim. Of course, with our rather, erm, inadequate armament, you saw fit to restore some of _Venture_'s weapons and tractor beams to make sure we could survive the rigors of this glorious little warlord hunt you've got going, maybe even sent a few spare parts our w-'

A loud beep interrupted Booster's scheming. Wedge pulled a commlink from his pocket and activated it, apologizing to Booster as he stepped out of their booth.

'Go ahead,' he said into the receiver.

Luke's voice crackled as the commlink relayed his message. 'Wedge, we've got a situation. You're needed back at the ship.'

'Solid copy, Luke. I'm on my way.'

As Wedge ran off back to the _Tiger Claw_, Booster poked his head out of the cantina and yelled, 'Think about it, Wedge! We'll be a hell of a lot more useful if you give us some firepower!'

* * *

The space station was on fire and it wasn't their fault. Well, this time, anyway. Voort 'Piggy' SaBinring backtracked down to the Wraiths' escape vehicle as blaster fire whipped down its length. Shouldering a stolen E-Web, the Gamorrean let rip on full auto, cutting down a mob of mercenaries and Maw stormtroopers. Myri Antilles popped out from a nearby alcove and fired a burst to add to the wall of fire. Piggy rounded the corner and took cover as Daala's mercenaries returned fire.

'Flash out!' yelled Myri, raising her wrist launcher and firing a flash grenade. A second later, the detonation rang down the corridor, as did the disoriented yells of their mercenary pursuers. She followed up with a frag grenade and turned tail to run as Piggy covered her. Stopping to brace himself again, Piggy fired at the next wave of attackers. All but one were scythed down by the hail of blaster bolts. That last one wore a robe of black, red, and gold, and a mask carved in the shape of a stylized sharp-toothed skull. Lord Kharak chuckled darkly as he reveled in his newly returned vitality, deflecting every single shot that came at him.

Behind Piggy, the blast doors to their stolen ship's docking port slid open ever so slowly. In a vain effort to hold the Dread Master back, he kept firing. This was just ridiculous, he thought, how in Space does someone swing a lightsaber around _that_ quickly? Oh, right. Midichlorians._  
_

Slowly, Lord Kharak advanced, and slowly, the doors opened. Abruptly, Lord Kharak stopped in his tracks, winged by a sonic blast from the other side of the door. Huhunna roared as she fired a concussion rifle again and again at the Dread Master. The other Wraiths in the docking tube lent their support as well, opening up on the Dread Master. In response, Kharak reached out with the Force and hurled a forklift at them. In response to _that_, Huhunna shot him one last time and the Wraiths did what they did second-best: run away.

'You couldn't have gotten us anything faster?' Piggy asked, settling into the cockpit of a rickety old _Citadel-_class civilian cruiser.

'Nothing that would fit all of us,' replied Trey Courser, his arms buried up to their elbows in an opened instrument panel. 'Just give me a second to fix our navicomputer and we'll be able to make the jump to hyperspace.

'Noted,' Piggy grunted. 'Three, Five, get on the ion turrets. Hit the station's turbolaser arrays _now_, or we won't be leaving this station at all.'

Myri and Jesmin both barked affirmatives and made way to the ion cannons in the cruiser's aft section as their ship broke away from its docking tube. Piggy felt the ship vibrate slightly as the turrets went to work, disabling the station's defenses long enough for them to escape. By the time the Maw Irregular forces aboard the station scrambled fighters to intercept the Wraiths, they were long gone.

* * *

Old age was most definitely not fun, Wedge thought to himself as he reached the _Tiger Claw_'s bridge, huffing and panting. Luke waved him over to the holo-projector. A number of other officers gathered around the hololith as well. Commander Sara Konnair, Polearm Leader, saluted Wedge as he entered. The others followed suit soon after they noticed his arrival. Syal and Aresh, still in their flight gear, entered behind Wedge. Piggy, the Wraiths' commander, inserted a datachip into the hololith console. A hologram of the galaxy manifested above the projector with a series of dots and line segments clustered in a corner of the Outer Rim. Most of these locations were just a few hyperspace jumps away.

'General,' Piggy began, 'this is a star map, or rather, a piece of one. During our last mission, we managed to steal this from one of Daala's Star Destroyers while it was docked at one of her space stations. This one was assigned to patrol the following routes, highlighted in yellow. If you'll notice, this patrol route takes this Star Destroyer _to_ the Maw.'

'So if we capture more of those star maps,' Aresh muttered, 'we can piece them together to get a look at all of Daala's patrols and most of the potential routes into the Maw.'

'Correct,' Piggy replied. 'And about that, er, I have good news and bad news.'

'And the good news?' Captain Tomar asked.

'My team's extraction was, er, rather violent. Security is bound to increase after the Wraiths' little caper. By a lot. I'm not sure if we'll be able to play Hawkbat as easily anymore.'

Wedge sighed. 'Wonderful. Well, the point is that you guys got home safe. Good job on the find, Piggy. What's the bad?'

Piggy paused before speaking to make sure everyone was listening. 'Daala has at least one Force wielder on her payroll. Very nasty, very dark side. Also very dapper, but that's neither here nor there.'

'Oh,' said Luke. 'Oh dear.'

Wedge turned to his old friend and raised an eyebrow. 'Is this that disturbance you felt?'

'I'm almost certain,' the Jedi Master replied, his voice heavy with worry. 'And you know what that means.'

Captain Tomar nodded. 'I'll put in a requisition order for more concussion weaponry.'

'And Ben and I will take a quick field trip to Myrkr to pick up some ysalamiri,' Luke added.

'Are you sure, sir?' Tomar asked. 'I can just put in a requisition to Myrkr Base and-'

Luke waved it off, saying, 'It's alright, Captain. Something tells me Ben and I should be the ones to do it.' What he didn't tell them was that he'd met Mara on Myrkr so many years ago. It would be nice to enjoy a brief moment of nostalgia, to think about things other than war. And there was, in fact, a little sensation in the Force that nagged at him. Why was the Force pulling him there, of all places? And why did this feel so very contrived and convenient?


End file.
